A Firm and Steady Hand
by Thesunwillrise
Summary: After a riveting chase and a dunk in the Thames, John puts his foot down and demands that Sherlock rest... especially when he realizes that the detective is sick.


In John's opinion, the day really was going well, all things considered. Naturally, after 'The Fall' as he called it in his own mind, he was a lot more cautious when it came to Sherlock. Of course, he would never attempt to get in the way of the other man's work (John liked all of his limbs and possessions exactly as they were, thank you very much) but there were certainly points where he would tell his flat mate to roll it back, to slow down or he would force him to.

Not an idle threat by any stretch of the imagination, and if he used his soldier voice it was almost always obeyed. The night before had, as per usual when working a case with Sherlock, been filled with astounding deductions and a foot chase of a man who had been using children to smuggle drugs in and out of the country. Initially, the sleuth had deemed the case 'boring' and 'certainly not more than a three' (not unusual for him, but all the same) though he'd taken it on anyway out of nothing more than sheer boredom and ended up dismantling a rather intricate ring of smugglers- one that had eluded Lestrade and the rest of New Scotland Yard for nearly three years.

Also as per usual, nothing was cut and dry or simple about the foot chase; so, when the curly haired detective got himself ambushed and shoved head first into the Thames...again...John had called for a stop. After allowing the paramedics to do their jobs despite constant whining from Sherlock ("John, you're a doctor. I don't need them! I'm fine!"), the shorter man all but dragged a still damp Sherlock into a cab and up the stairs to 221B.

As soon as they walked through the door, he stripped the taller man out of his wet things and dumped him into a hot shower, despite much sputtering and protest.  
"Wash up and put some sweats on" he called, closing the bathroom door behind him before changing out of his own sweat damp clothing and making two cups of tea. One, he left on Sherlock's dresser, knowing that it would be gone by morning. The other, of course, was kept for himself. For the rest of the night, John passed the time in a blur of bad telly, tea, and not seeing hide nor hair of his friend until he went up to bed, completely knackered from the terrifyingly eventful day.

For a brief moment laying in bed, the doctor wondered if he should go down and check to see if Sherlock was alright. Exhaustion won out, though, and his eyes slipped shut, body almost immediately surrendering to sleep. Not waking until around eight am the next day, John startled up to a thud and a muffled curse. Hopping out of bed, he all but flew down the stairs towards the source of the commotion.

"Sherlock?" he called, pushing open the door to the other man's room and trying not to bust out in laughter at the sight that greeted him.  
The normally dignified detective was flailing about, trying to escape a sheet that had wrapped around his legs as he lay on the floor next to his bed.  
"Did you fall? Are you alright?" John asked, mirth in his voice as he helped to remove the fabric that was tangled about his flat mate and guiding him back into bed.

It wasn't until he had hands on Sherlock's arms that the doctor realized just how clammy and warm the man's skin was.  
"You're sick" he accused with a solid tone, leaving no room for argument and pressing his lips to the detective's forehead.  
"Is that why you fell? Dizzy?" he predicted, not actually wanting or expecting answers to his questions because he was already certain of the answer.  
"I'm not sick, John" Sherlock tried to protest, voice breaking as he spoke as a cough forced its way out of his chest despite the fact that he was huffing in frustration at the circumstances.

"Contrary to your belief, your transport actually can get sick, you complete wanker" the sandy haired man retaliated, helping the nearly entirely limp form of his flat mate to lay back on the pillows so that he was comfortable and not just sprawled out across the mattress. 

"There are cases! Experiments! I cannot be sick" Sherlock retorted, already looking mere moments away from falling back asleep.  
"Yes. And they'll still be there when you're feeling better" John replied firmly, tucking the covers back up under Sherlock's chin before walking around to the other side of the bed and crawling in to lay next to his petulant detective. 

Okay, so maybe his reasoning for doing so wasn't entirely selfless; yes, he wanted to make sure that the other man was comfortable, but really it wasn't as though he was ever going to pass up the opportunity to cuddle with Sherlock in bed. And, really, it was the best and easiest way to keep track of him.

"When you wake up, you'll probably feel loads better and I'll run you a bath and make you tea and maybe even pull out some of those chocolate biscuits you like. But for now, sleep, alright?" he tried to negotiate, wrapping his arms around the taller, lanky man and tucking the head of dark curls under his chin. 

"I don't want to sleep, John" Sherlock pouted, words slurring together and eyes already fluttering shut as he relaxed into the embrace.  
"Yeah, I know. But I'll be right here when you wake up. Just let me take care of you. Like you said earlier, I am a doctor, after all" the ex-soldier joked lightly, pressing his lips to the crown of his partner's head.

When he received no reply, the doctor assumed that his endlessly stubborn flat mate actually did as he was told for once and went to sleep.

"I love you, you know" he said lowly, voice soft while he stoked a hand up and down the slumbering man's spine.

"Sentiment" Sherlock mumbled back in reply, tucking his cheek into John's chest. "But I know. I love you, too" he added, saying nothing more as he fell asleep leaving John to feel the words rushing through his system like a drug.

Smiling like a fool at the most important person he'd ever known, he finally allowed his own breathing to even out as his body fell into sleep.


End file.
